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Tipping her chin up, he kissed her, rolling so her body was on top of his. There were no answers. No easy solutions that would solve the unsolvable. But what seemed right and easy was this kiss. The way Bailey’s hands roamed over his body as she straddled him. The earth below them was soft and smelled of moss and leaves, and the stars above winked and peeked out from behind the clouds in varying patterns.
There was a primal dance happening. Something Bailey didn’t realize she was so thirsty for until his body began to quench every dry part of her. His hands moved down her quivering chest as she adeptly pulled open the buttons of her dress. She was desperate for the night air to cool her hot skin. Desperate for his hands to be on her.
He pulled open the tiny buttons on her dress and exposed her skin. The gasp that left her body felt otherworldly.
“King,” she breathed, his tongue following the same path as his hands, nibbling the peaked buds of her breasts until she lost her breath with pleasure.
This was a reclaiming of the earth. The land. This ground. She was not a prisoner here anymore. For this moment she was not alone. She knew King was making sure of that in every way possible.
She’d nearly forgotten how powerful pleasure could make you feel. How the skilled hands of a lover could elicit the most visceral reactions of sheer ecstasy. King never skipped a beat. He found her every point of desire and licked, pinched, or sucked his way around it, responding to her cries of pleasure with even more.
Their clothes peeled away like layers of wispy mountain fog being burned away by the heat. When the moon lit King’s naked body she pushed back from him for a moment, hungry for the view. The beauty of his statuesque frame made her urgency for his touch even greater.
“I don’t want you to feel—” he began, misreading her body language as hesitation rather than need for a better view.
“Take me,” she demanded, sweeping her hair off her shoulder. “Don’t make me wait another second.”
A look of relief and desire painted his face as he repositioned himself to take control. Bailey was deliberate in her expression, making sure he could see just how badly she wanted this, how impatient she was growing for him to fill her.
With a thrust, King parted her legs and his full length plunged inside her. The arch of her back was involuntary, a response of pleasure she could not control. Her nails came to his back and clawed their way down, begging with each scrape for more of him.
With hypnotic rhythm King moved within her, teasing every inch of her naked body to the same beat. And as her breath quickened, so did his thrusting, until she burst open with a flurry of ecstasy. Tightening every bit of herself around him, they rode the wave of pleasure together.
It was their moment. Their space. And for a brief window of time, nothing could harm her. Not while King was holding her.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
King
King and Bailey had driven for hours to reach Arnoldo's small mountainside condo, the only address they could find for the retired detective. Bailey had not seen him in years, but it was becoming clear, in Bailey’s eyes, they had nowhere else to turn for help.
As they drove, their fingers laced together comfortably with the affection of a new couple, although they’d hardly had time to consider what they really meant to each other. This was fast and selfish. King recognized that. He’d spent so many years at the beck and call of Lou, that he’d always sidelined his own life. Now when he finally felt something real, it was again tainted by the threat of violence.
King knew one call to Carmen and they’d have resources to help Bailey and others leave. But he couldn’t let on that he knew about Gloria. Or worse, tell Bailey he’d come here under false pretenses to spy on her and get to the bottom of what was going on in Cinderhill. The best he could do was stay by her side and make sure nothing bad happened on his watch. Seeing Arnoldo made sense for now.
“Do you think we should have called him first?” Bailey asked, her free hand spinning a lock of her hair in that nervous way she did. He now recognized the ways she manifested her fear in panicky motions.
“It’s better if we don’t give him a chance to think better about helping us. The element of surprise will be in our favor.” King squeezed her hand a little tighter.
As they approached the small condo, they saw a man sitting outside, smoking a cigarette. He looked up as they advanced toward the building and gave them a small nod of greeting, though it didn’t look as though he recognized Bailey.
“That’s him,” Bailey whispered into King’s shoulder as she clung to his arm. “He doesn’t look well though.”
As they walked closer, King saw that he looked much older than someone who had retired a few years ago, with deep wrinkles etched into his face and tired eyes. This was not a formidable man who might be eager to jump into a fight again. He seemed a bit frail and maybe ill. Disappointment washed over King.
He’d wrongly conjured up the image of a hard-boiled, grizzled cop with the fire for justice still raging in his eyes and an underlying, relentless ruggedness that was still enduring even though he’d turned in his badge. That was not the case.
"Detective Arnoldo?" King asked tentatively as they approached. "My name is King Kendrick. I was hoping I could talk to you for a bit about Cinderhill."
Arnoldo nodded but didn't say anything. He stood up and gestured for them to follow him inside.
The condo was small and sparsely furnished, with only a few pieces of basic furniture and a TV in the corner. There were no pictures or decorations on the walls, and it felt like someone had just moved in or was moving out. Not at all like this was the place he lived all the time.
“Are you doing a podcast or something?” His voice was gruff and strained, as though it pained him to speak. “That’s who shows up on my doorstep these days. People wanting to ask me about old cases. Make their fortune on the misfortune of others. Cinderhill certainly had that in spades.”
“It’s my misfortune,” Bailey said, just above a whisper. “Do you remember me?”
Arnoldo turned slowly, steadying himself on the closest chair. He blinked his gray watery eyes at her for a long beat. “Bailey?”
